


Palpatine and Isard

by BenW



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenW/pseuds/BenW
Summary: A short conversational fic showing Ysanne Isard from the X-Wing books meeting the Emperor for the first time. This was written in response to a prompt from Rogue Podron.





	Palpatine and Isard

Ysanne Isard let the turbolift doors stay closed for a moment. She took that moment to whisk her hands over her uniform, inspecting it to make sure that the white was spotless and free of wrinkles. She also ran her hand along her hair to make sure that it was just as preened and proper. Jet-black coiled around at the back of her head in a tight, regulation bun, leaving the one stripe of white hair standing out on her scalp.

She knew she cut a striking figure, between her hair and heterochromatic eyes. Her appearance was spotless. She knew that. But she could not help but check herself over again. For everything that she had done in her life, all of her years working within Imperial Intelligence, the Imperial Security Bureau, and the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order, practically every secret service that the Empire had, this was the first time she had been summoned to the Emperor’s personal presence.

The Emperor had risen to power while she had been a very young girl, and his leadership was one of the rock-solid constants upon which her life had been built. It was within his service that she had spent basically her entire education and adult life. His name was constant around her, urging her onward and upward to greater and bigger things, it was his example of absolute, unrivaled power that drove her when obstacles of all shapes and sizes rose in her way.

And now she was going to meet him. Face to face.

She took a deep breath, and let it out, slowly. Then she pressed the release button on the turbolift doors and let them open up in front of her at last. She was looking out into the grand and incredibly ostentatious hallway, with rich burgundy and gold carpeting, polished white walls that looked almost like marble, also rimmed with gold, and grand ceiling to floor paintings, some of people, others of buildings or landscapes. It was, by far, the most luxurious place that Ysanne had ever walked into, certainly the most regal.

There was also a door directly in front of her, with two red-clad Imperial guards, The Emperor’s personal bodyguards, framing it on either side. They did not look at her, they did not say anything, they just stood there, silent sentinels of order and peace. Two men did not seem like enough to stand guard outside of a room containing the supreme leader of the known galaxy. But she had seen a few of the guards in action, and she knew of their larger reputation. Two guards was enough.

She put her hands at her sides, keeping them in the open, and stepped forward. The guards remained frozen where they were, and when she got close the door opened on its own and she stepped through into the room beyond.

The Emperor’s throne room was not nearly as ostentatious as the corridor outside. The carpeting was a simple red, the walls were a soft bluish-gray, and there was only one decoration, which was also the only seating in sight: the Emperor’s throne. It sat at the far end of the room, facing the far wall, which was not a wall so much as a ceiling-to-floor window facing the skyline of Imperial Center, specifically the Senatorial District. The room’s primary function seemed to be to have as much free and open space as possible with nothing in it. It made sense, of course. You did not walk into this room to admire the decor, you walked in to kneel at your Emperor’s feet.

It occurred to Ysanne, as she glanced around the room, that she was, in fact, alone. There were no other guards, no other agents, not even any attendants. But she knew that she was not entirely alone. The throne was faced away from her, and she knew how the trick worked: it would turn around and reveal the Emperor was there, waiting for her, just in case she said or did something foolish once she assumed she was alone. She had used the trick herself once or twice during missions for Intelligence.

So she moved to the center of the room, folded her hands behind the small of her back, and waited.

She was waiting for a long time, in silence and stillness, for something to happen.

Her legs started to ache a bit, and her shoulders stiffened from holding her at-attention posture for so long. But she ignored the pain and kept herself in place. The throne had not moved, it had not turned or stirred, and she could not hear anything happening on the other side of it, not even so much as someone breathing.

It occurred to her, somewhere in the back of her mind, that the whole presentation might be a trap or setup of some kind, and the Emperor was not even there, and she was about to be framed for something. She was loyal to the Empire, but she was not content with loyalty alone, and ambition tended to breed enemies. She would not put it past anyone else within any of the Empire’s Intelligence community that wanted to set her up for a fall to go to a plan this elaborate, sending her official correspondence from the Palace, bribing or tricking the guards into letting her enter, and finding a time when the Emperor was away so she would wind up alone in the throne room for… some reason.

She debated turning around and leaving, informing the guards that the Emperor was not there, and going back to her duties. It was not like she did not have other things she could be doing; the prospect of meeting the Emperor had caused her to drop everything, but if that was not going to happen…

“Have you been waiting long, child?”

The voice startled her. She had been so involved with her own thoughts that she had not heard anyone else approaching or entering the room. When she turned to look at who it was, she saw a hunched figure, gnarled and wrinkled skin hidden beneath an enveloping black cloak, walking along with a black wooden cane in one hand. A pair of warm yellow eyes bored into hers as the man shuffled into the room, trailed by a small group of attendants.

“Your Excellency.” Ysanne managed to say without stammering in surprise. “No, not long at all.”

“Good, good. I thought it best before our meeting to arrange for a more hospitable reception.” The Emperor swept his hand out, “Just set it down here for us.”

The attendants bustled past them both, bringing in, of all things, a table, two chairs, a platter that was thereafter set upon the table and opened to reveal a small circle of hors d'oeuvre, and a circular cooler within which was a bottle of wine. One of the last attendants went around the table and placed glasses for the wine on the table, one at each end, then paused just a moment to pop the cork on the wine bottle and pour it into the glasses until they were each about half-full.

The attendants retreated and the door closed behind them, leaving Ysanne and the Emperor alone in the throne room.

“I suppose you are wondering why I had you summoned, Agent Isard.” The Emperor said. He moved to the far end of the table, his pace an old man’s shuffle and cane audible tapping down through the carpet to the floor beneath.

“You summoned and I came, your Excellency. It is not my place to wonder why.”

“Spoken like a true believer. Your father has taught you well.” The Emperor sat down at the table, setting his cane down so it leaned against the table next to him, and motioned toward the seat across from him. “Please, sit.”

Ysanne sat without hesitation. As out of the ordinary as this was, she did not disobey a direct command from her Emperor. She observed the spread in front of them. The wine was a deep maroon color and smelled both sweet and strong. The platter had a mixture of rolled-up greens topped with fragrant cheeses and fruit sat atop whipped cream atop small pastries. Not a meal, certainly, but still far more to consume than she had ever expecting going into this.

“Please, whatever you like.” The Emperor said. He seemed to be studying her, his expression almost unreadable under his hood, but eyes staring intently at her every move and motion.

“Thank you, your Excellency.” Ysanne did not know exactly what to do, whether she should eat or focus on the wine, or if she could politely refuse both. She settled for the wine, she could stay attentive and present while sipping a glass of wine, whereas stuffing fruit and cream into her face would be both unprofessional and render her mute. She took the glass by its stem and swirled it around, bringing it close to her nose so she could study the fragrance a bit more closely.

“A Nubian vintage, from the days of the Republic.” The Emperor noted, “A relic of a bygone age.”

Ysanne sipped at the glass’s rim. It was very flavorful, leading with an intense and heavy sweetness, almost like syrup, before finishing with a strong aftertaste. She nodded and set the glass down at the table. “It’s a very good wine, your Excellency.”

“Tell me, Agent Isard,” The Emperor leaned forward for his own glass, taking it by the bulb instead of the stem but not bothering to drink from it. “When you received the message that I wished you to appear before me, what was your first thought as to why? You obeyed, but obedience is not the same as an absence from independence.”

“I thought you wished to discuss something related to one of my recent missions, your Excellency. I have been very active across the Core sectors recently, and I have uncovered many-”

“Your current activities are of no concern to me.” The Emperor said with dismissive intonation. “I have administrators for those duties, Yularen, your father, others. They can attend to any petty squabbles or minor treasons you have uncovered in your current career.”

Ysanne started thinking, she knew he expected her to guess why he wanted her here, but that had been her assumption and she had not bothered to think much further on it. If he was not concerned with her work, past or present, then there was only one other thing for him to be interested in. “You summoned me to discuss my future within your Empire.”

“Good. Yes, that is correct.” The Emperor’s lips curled into a smile, that was at once the most horrifying, and the most gratifying, thing she had ever seen. It was the smile of an old man, yet, it was also a smile of approval from the most intensely powerful being in the galaxy. And he had deigned to turn it on her.

“Your father, Armand, is currently the head of Imperial Intelligence, and he has been in my service for longer than the Empire itself has existed.” The Emperor continued, “He did not feel it necessary to inform me that he had selected his only daughter to follow in his footsteps, but nonetheless I have been watching your career with great… interest.”

“I am flattered, your Excellency.” Ysanne sipped her wine again. “I have a great deal of respect for my father and everything he has accomplished.”

“A diplomatic answer.” The Emperor sipped at his own wine, then set the glass down on the table again. “You despise him, don’t you?”

Ysanne had to pause for a moment to formulate an answer. “I’m… your Excellency, I-”

“Armand is a suspicious, paranoid old man, content to run around chasing his own tail and throwing my Empire’s resources at ghosts and phantoms.” The Emperor spoke with a lash of venom in his voice. He stood up from the table and stalked away, leaving his cane behind, all of the old man’s wobble gone from his gait. “He has done everything in his power to thwart your advancement throughout your career. Yet, you have persevered.”

“I seek only to serve, my Emperor.”

“Do you?” He paused and turned to look over his shoulder at her, yellow eyes snapping. “You cannot hide your ambitions from me, Agent Isard. I know that you dream to one day supplant and replace your father at my side. I know the fires of ambition that burn within you. You do not merely seek to serve, you wish to rule, you wish for the galaxy to dance on your string, just as you have been forced to dance on his.”

Ysanne swallowed. She set the wine glass down on the table. “Your Excellency, I-”

“Silence. The Empire is ruled by my will, and mine alone. In all your ambitions, as high as you seek to rise, remember to whom you answer. Remember whose will is absolute.” He turned back and continued his walk, crossing the room until he stood before the window and was looking out at the city spread out before him. “Remember to whom you owe your ultimate allegiance.”

“Of course, my Emperor.” Ysanne remained seated, though she had the compulsion that she ought to get up and immediately kneel. Every word out of his mouth seemed to breathe of power itself. “I would never betray the power you have entrusted to me.”

“Power.” A murmur, almost a chuckle, escaped the Emperor’s lips. “One to hold it, and all other to crave it. Do you know, Agent Isard, that there are those within my inner circle who believe you to be a danger to the Empire? They say that you are too ambitious, that you will overstep your bounds and be the ruin of us all. They thought that this meeting would be for me to bring you to heel, to rein you in.”

“Are you bringing me to heel, your Excellency?”

“On the contrary, Agent Isard. I hope that your ambition grows. The petty squabbles of those content to hold onto the power they already have do not interest me. They grow fat and content with what they already have, and fight tooth and nail to hold onto it. I would rather that my Empire be filled with the hungry, with those rabid not just to hold to the power that they have, but to crave even more. People like you, Agent Isard. Your actions force those around you to stay alert, to fight back. Such actions defeat the lethargy of contentment and push my Empire’s bounds even further beyond where they lay now.”

There was a pause, and Ysanne felt prompted to speak, though she was at a loss as to what to say, to what would be permissible to say. “Is there… anything you would have me do, your Excellency?”

“Do?” He turned and looked at her again. “Child, do as you will. I will continue to watch your course from afar. I would not counsel you on any course of action except… bide your time. Wait for the opportunity. Those ahead of you are growing old and slow, and they will make mistakes as all men do. That is your time to strike.”

Ysanne nodded. “Of course, my Emperor.”

The intensity in his gaze dissipated, as if a switch had been thrown, and he seemed almost disinterested in her being there. He cast his hand toward her. “Go, back to your duties. If I have need of you again I will summon you.”

“Yes, your Excellency.” Ysanne got to her feet. “And thank you.”

The Emperor turned back away from her, faced the window, and said nothing more. He seemed to have forgotten that she was even there.

Ysanne turned and marched out of the room, leaving everything on the table untouched. She managed to keep her pace crisp and clean, boots clicking on the floor with a military rhythm, despite the intensity of her heart pounding in her chest. Her head spun, and she did not think it was merely the wine. As she exited the room and entered the hallway again, crossing it to the turbolift without glancing at the guards, she resolved to do whatever it took to regain the Emperor’s attention, to be summoned back to his presence. Power was the only thing that anyone in the Empire understood and respected in equal measure, and she would gather as much of it as possible to herself. If that meant killing everyone else who stood in her way, so be it.


End file.
